


you'll break the rules once you learn the game

by snuffleslove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuffleslove/pseuds/snuffleslove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>they've been playing this game for too long and zayn has endured too many of harry's play kisses and big hands and intense smiles. he's <i>tired</i>.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	you'll break the rules once you learn the game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [robpatFF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robpatFF/gifts).



> for morgan and inspired by a gif that is.. somewhere
> 
> sorry for the lack of caps and the ridiculous amount of italics! 
> 
> (title adapted from out tonight from the musical Rent)

the problem with harry, zayn thinks a bit miserably, as harry throws a heavy arm around him, smiling innocently at the cameras, is that he's too _smart_ , too perceptive, too -

zayn bites back a curse of frustration as harry begins to draw shapeless figures into the curve of zayn's shoulder bone.

\- _harry_

and the problem with _zayn_ is that he can't help but give harry exactly what he wants, doesn't know how to be anything but transparent for harry, doesn't know how to stop his body from sliding into the creases harry leaves for him between long limbs. even now he relents easily, hand sliding up to tug slightly at harry's fingers, feeling absurdly, instantaneously more relaxed. 

it's not fair, is what it is. and from the corner of zayn's eye he watches harry's smile turn smirk and he thinks harry probably knows it too. 

\--

"hey," harry calls out quietly, secretly, reaching for zayn's wrist and wrapping bony fingers along the groove over zayn's pulse. "alright?" 

and zayn doesn't want harry to be able to read him like he does, because now harry's looking at him all soft and concerned, more than likely already knows that the way his thumb traces along the ink under zayn's skin is enough to drive zayn crazy, enough to get zayn's blood racing, pupils dilating, body reacting in a way that is so _natural_ now. they've been playing this game for too long and zayn has endured too many of harry's play kisses and big hands and intense smiles. he's _tired_.

he twists his wrist out of harry's grasp. 

"dont," he says, tries to be demanding even has harry's face falls. those green eyes are a sin and he turns away from the temptation that hums there, flees to his dressing room and slams the door shut behind him. 

obviously, harry doesn't take the hint. 

"zayn," harry starts, and he's more unsure now, closing the door behind him and then locking it. zayn swallows as harry steps closer, runs a hand through his hair to muss it up, "i'm sorry, zayn," he says a little wretchedly, "i don't mean to be - " 

"shut up," zayn snaps, digging his nails into his palm and trying to roll his eyes offhandedly, "i'm trying to stay mad at you and you _know_ can't stay mad at you when you look at me like that and - christ. _harry_ ," zayn whines because harry's looking at him with wide innocent eyes, mouth turned down in a pout. he takes more steps forward until zayn is forced to tilt his head up to look at him, ordering himself to look away from his lips and into eyes that are their brightest green with mirth. 

"sorry," harry says, and zayn hates him, he does, except that he's leaning into the solid lines of harry's body almost on instinct, wants to close the space between them, wants harry to _touch him_ , for chrissake. that's the point of it all isn't it? 

_isn't it?_

"why're you doing this?' he mumbles, ducking his head so he doesn't have to look harry in the eye anymore.

"doing what?" harry tries, attempting an innocent lilt, but his expression changes quickly when he catches the no nonsense glare zayn sends his way, revealing _nerves_ , "shit, okay. fuck. i dunno, yeah? i just. nothing - " he trails off weakly, and finally, _finally_ zayn feels like he has the upper hand. 

"was there something you wanted harry?" zayn asks him, and he _does_ manage the innocence, tilting his head slightly as he considers him, "was there something you wanted from _me_?" he closes the distance between them so that he can place a palm on his chest, curling his fingers into the loose material of harry's shirt to place faint crescents in a circle on his skin. 

"zayn - " harry's voice wavers a little, and his hand shifts to cup zayn's face, tilt it up slightly, "zayn i - . shit. is this - is this okay?" his eyes search zayn's anxiously and he looks so worried and zayn's suddenly flooded with why he loves this boy so dearly, so wild and so eager to do right by everyone, still young enough to need everyone to love him, love him best. 

zayn doesn't answer, just leans up onto the balls of his feet to press his lips to harry's and harry actually _whimpers_ , drawing zayn into him almost hungrily and clutching at zayn's waist. 

zayn wraps his arms around harry's neck, arches into him on a groan and licks into harry's mouth demandingly, determined this time to outplay harry. harry lets him, lets zayn taste him, lets zayn lead and it's _good_ , sweet and hot and desperate all at once, hundreds of interviews and mischief and thinly held _control_ building to a moment that is perfectly anticlimactic, because kissing harry feels familiar, safe, as if their bodies have been practicing for ages how to slot together like this. 

zayn whines a small protest when harry pulls away a little, furrowing his eyebrows. 

"not still mad yeah?" he asks zayn hopefully, nervous _still_ and zayn smiles, relief flooding in unexpectedly. zayn traces the feeling back, grimacing when it dawns on him.

"thought you were only playing because you knew you had sure odds," zayn confesses. something in harry's eyes flashes and then he's tugging zayn in roughly. 

"should be offended by that, fuckssake zayn, but i'm gonna let it slide because i know you too well, yeah? and in return you're not gonna pretend like you don't know how much i love you, like you can't read me like a fucking book by now." 

zayn's eyes widen and then he blushes. 

"moment of doubt," he mumbles quietly, and harry lets out air in a rush. "m'sorry." 

"idiot," harry scolds, and it's mostly fond and zayn presses that much closer to him, tucking himself into harry. 

"you're the idiot," he protests defensively, "tiresome too. driving me fucking mad with all of," he waves his hands in front of harry's face and harry grins, reaches up to bat his hands out of the way strongly, cup his face gently. 

"sorry," and it's in earnest and zayn lets his eyes flutter shut in forgiveness, lets harry nose lightly at him and then tip forward to kiss him, stumbling slightly in typical clumsiness.

zayn huffs a sort of helpless laugh into the kiss that harry swallows on a sigh, licking behind his teeth. 

"can i -" he fists his hands at the bottom of zayn's shirt and zayn nods slightly. 

"careful though, s'not mine," zayn warns him and harry nods distractedly, focusing on shoving his jacket off his shoulders and tugging his shirt up impatiently and it strikes zayn's urgency hot again too. zayn groans slightly when harry's fingers make contact with sweaty skin and he feels small under his impossibly big hands. 

"i can hardly remember you without these," harry murmurs, almost to himself, tracing the outline of the wing above zayn's heart. he's sure harry can feel the way it speeds up, rushing to send blood to his dick. "wanna leave my mark too," and he traces down the flat, unmarked plane of zayn's belly, and zayn wants to chide him, tell him he's left marks all over, tucked away in his sleeve and in the heart on his hip and the lips on his chest.

but he thinks it'd be counterproductive to break their kiss again so he bites harsh at harry's lower lip instead, presses _want you to mark me_ into soft flesh with his teeth and harry groans, low and desperate, tugs his own shirt off hastily. 

"trousers too," zayn manages in a moment of clarity, "can't spoil them - " 

"don't worry," harry says with a smirk, sinking to his knees, "i'll swallow," and zayn's cock strains against his trousers and he clenches his eyes shut against the look harry sends him, half-lidded and eager. 

"repaying for me the candy thong?" he gasps out and harry groans around his cock. 

"didn't think you'd actually _do_ it," he says, pulling off zayn's cock and pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh. 

"wasn't gonna miss an opportunity to get my mouth close to your dick." and really, zayn's impressed he can manage words with harry hovering so close to where he _wants_.

"shup _up_ ," harry growls before taking him into his mouth again with a haze of teeth and tongue and _of course_ harry'd be good at sucking cock, of course he would. 

he manages to warn harry when he's close to the edge with a sharp tug on his curls but harry swallows like he said he would, licking slow over his lips like he's enjoying the taste of it, and zayn sinks to the floor in front of him, hands reaching for harry's zipper. 

"started having a wank before each concert," harry says then, voice strangled, "was the only way to avoid getting a stiffy on stage with the way you'd keep teasing me." 

"really?" zayn asks incredulously, hands stilling in his distraction. managing time for that before a show is impressive. 

" _zayn_ ," harry huffs out his annoyance, and zayn resumes fisting his dick, swiping his thumb over the head contritely. harry bucks forward on a whine. 

"well, you started it," zayn informs him, tightening his grip, "every time you touched your lips to the mic i imagined them around my cock." 

"s'not my fault - overactive imagination," harry pants out, dropping his forehead to the crook of zayn's neck and biting at the skin there, "please zayn, fuck. _c'mon_ ," he chants and then he's holding zayn's hand in front of the head of his cock, spilling his load into zayn's cupped palm, strangling zayn's name in groan. 

"gross," zayn mumbles after a moment, wiping his palm on the carpeted floor. 

harry's blushing. he's still got his face buried in zayn's shoulder but zayn can see the color creeping down his neck and he twists slightly to press a kiss there. 

he shudders. 

"s'not a game," he says after a moment, words muffled. zayn twitches when it tickles, laces their fingers together on his knees. "i didn't know that i was - i mean. i didn't want you think i was playing a game. i was - " 

"s' _okay_ haz," zayn tries, but harry continues. 

"i was just trying to get your attention, i swear. s'the only way i knew how." 

"idiot," zayn says, helplessly fondly, tugging on the hair at the nape of harry's neck until they're eye to eye again, "frustrating, tiresome _idiot_." 

harry's smiling, slow and reluctant and surprised and zayn think he looks beautiful.

"your idiot?" harry asks hopefully. 

"mine."


End file.
